


Three Months, Two Weeks, and Four Days Later

by amirawrites



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Bellarke, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-20 10:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3646443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amirawrites/pseuds/amirawrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inverse, after the season two finale.<br/>Bellamy is walking through the woods when two grounders attack him. Clarke has to swoop in to save the day. They reunite for the first time after Clarke had left him standing outside of the gate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reunited

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Bellaamyblakee's tumblr post](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/106527) by Jade. 



> This fic was inspired by a post made by bellaamyblakee on her tumblr. She allowed me to take her small idea and spin it into this. I hope you enjoy!  
> 

Bellamy pauses for a moment, raising his gun and slowly taking in his surroundings. He could have sworn he heard something rustling in the bushes to his left, but he sees no sign of movement. Cautiously, he continues forwards.

A few seconds later, he hears some twigs crack. He spins around and is met with a sharp pain exploding through his arm. Bellamy grabs at his arm and finds a knife lodged into his upper bicep.

He hears yelling and looks up to see two grounders running out of the bushes towards him. Bellamy cocks his gun, grunting as pain sears through him. The pain throws him off just a little bit, but he manages to catch one of the grounders in the shoulder. It isn’t enough, however, for the other grounder reaches him quickly. The grounder twists the gun in Bellamy’s hands, bearing the weight down on his injured arm.

Bellamy yells out in pain and releases the gun, reaching to pull out his knife. The grounder quickly smacks the butt of his gun into Bellamy’s face, causing him to stumble backwards. The other grounder kicks out Bellamy’s legs and he falls onto the ground. He tries to roll away from his attackers, but hits the hilt of the knife against the ground, causing it to dig deeper into his arm. With a shout, he stops and one of the grounders kicks him in the face.

Bellamy pulls out his own knife and slashes outwards, catching the leg of one of the grounders. The grounder yells and steps on the hilt of the knife sticking out of Bellamy’s arm. While Bellamy screams in pain, the other grounder pulls the knife out of his grasp.

Bellamy hears the grounders speaking to each other, but he is unable to understand them. The two nod at each other as Bellamy pants on the ground, stuck in place by the boot of the grounder standing on his arm. Then, the other grounder leans down to press his knife against Bellamy’s throat.

_Is this it?_ Bellamy thinks.

A gunshot cracks through the air and both of the grounders spin around. Bellamy scrambles away from them while they’re distracted, groaning in pain as he crawls backwards. One of the grounders notices, and grabs him by his hair. The grounder heaves him onto his knees and drags him forwards, the blade of a knife held against Bellamy’s throat.  
Bellamy blinks against the pain, forced to look at whoever had fired standing in front of them.

“Clarke.” The word slides out of his lips in a sigh. For one fleeting moment, the girl meets his gaze, her eyes boring into his. Bellamy feels a shock roll through his entire body.

_She’s alive._

“Clarke!” The grounder not holding Bellamy yells. He charges forwards, running at Clarke full speed. Clarke fires, killing him instantly.

The other grounder tightens his grip on Bellamy as Clarke turns the gun back onto him.

“Drop him,” she commands, taking a step towards them.

Bellamy feels like he’s locked in place. Grounded to the spot, unable to look away from her, from Clarke because _she’s alive, she’s right here, she can come back._

The grounder lets go of Bellamy and raises his arms, still holding onto the knife.

“Drop your weapon.”

The grounder doesn’t move for a split second, before flinging the knife towards Clarke. Clarke dodges it and shoots as the grounder jumps towards her. He crumples on the ground in front of Bellamy, dead.

Clarke drops the gun Bellamy had been carrying like it burned her and stumbles backwards, her hands covering her mouth.

Bellamy quickly gets to his feet, walking towards Clarke. He opens his arms, offering a hug. She replies by punching him in the face.

Bellamy staggers backwards. “What the hell?”

“I leave you alone for five minutes, _Blake_ , and you’ve managed to go stomping around in the forest and walk right into an ambush and nearly got yourself killed!” She yells, hands curled into fists at her side.

Bellamy rubs at his stinging cheek dejectedly. “Five minutes!” He yells. “Try three months, two weeks, and four days!”

Clarke snaps her mouth shut, giving him a surprised look. She stares at him for a minute before saying, “How do you… did you keep count since I left?”

Her eyes capture Bellamy’s. There’s something in them, that keeps him from firing back the snarky reply he had ready. Clarke is the first to look away. Her gaze moves down, to his arm. Her expression becomes deadpan. “You’re injured.”

Bellamy looks down at his arm, where the knife is still stuck. “Oh, yeah,” he grunts. He reaches up, intending to pull the knife out of his body.

“No!” Clarke yells, stepping forward to grab his arm. “Don’t do that, you’ll bleed out! Just, give me a second.”

She stoops down, tearing moss off of the ground. She gathers it into a ball and shoves it into his hand before guiding it over to the knife. “Here, press the moss against it to help stop the bleeding.”

He does as she told him to and she nods. “Good. Now, follow me.”

Clarke gingerly takes the hand lying limp at his side and tugs him forwards. He moves after her, following her lead as they make their way through the forest. Clarke keeps glancing back at him, as if to make sure he’s still behind her, even though she hasn’t let go of his hand. Bellamy moves his hand in her grip, twining his fingers into hers. Clarke bites her lip, but her fingers tighten onto his in a desperately clingy way as they continue through the forest.

Bellamy’s gaze never strays from Clarke. He feels like, if he looks away, she might disappear again. She looks strong, healthy. A small smile pricks onto his lips when his eyes find their hands, laced together. If he could just stay in this moment, forever, he would be okay. Well, aside from the aching pain seeping through his arm.

Finally, they reach a small clearing that looks to be a campsite. Clarke leads Bellamy over to a log and sits him down.

“Stay,” she demands. She drops his hand and disappears into her tent, coming back out a minute later with a first aid kit.

“I don’t have any really good disinfectant supplies, so we’re going to have to cauterize the wound,” Clarke tells him. She starts up the fire and carefully places the blade of her knife into the flames.

As it heats up, she gathers more moss and sits down next to Bellamy. She replaces the old moss with the new one and uses the rest to wipe his face, which is covered in blood from his nose.

Bellamy stares at her as she pats him dry. A small blush slowly spreads on her cheeks and she stops, meeting his gaze.

“So,” she says, “Three months, two weeks, and two days.”

“Four,” he corrects her. She furrows her eyebrows, confused. “It was four days.”

“Oh, sorry. Three months, two weeks, and _four_ days.”

Bellamy nods. “Yep.” He leans forwards, closing the distance between them so he can press his forehead against hers. “It’s good to see you, Clarke.”

Clarke closes her eyes, leaning into him. “It’s good to see you, too, Bellamy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some ideas that could take this fic multichapter. So, if you enjoy it and want to read more, please tell me!  
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke patches up Bellamy's wounds, taking extra care to ensure he's completely alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like this story and I decided to continue with it after I got some feedback on the first chapter. Thanks to everyone who commented, I hope I don't disappoint! Enjoy, lovelies!

Bellamy isn't sure how long they sit with their foreheads pressed together, but he still feels as though Clarke moves away too soon.

Clarke looks up at him for a moment before dropping her eyes to the ground. "You need to keep pressure on your arm," she says, reaching up to press her fingers down on his hand where he is holding moss against the knife. 

Bellamy instantly moves his index finger, shifting it so it wraps around Clarke's. The smallest of frowns tugs at her expression, but she doesn't pull away. She sits next to him for a few more minutes, staring at their hands.

Eventually, she sighs and pulls her hands away. "I need to prep your bandages," Clarke mutters, not looking at him. She digs through the first aid kit, pulling out gauze and herbs, laying them out on the ground in front of her.

Bellamy manages to sit quietly without moving for another minute before he reaches out to fiddle with the hair falling in front of her face. His arm throbs in protest at the movement, but he presses the moss down harder and stifles a groan. Clarke stiffens for a split second at his touch but continues with her work.

He scoots closer to her, getting rid of some of that awful distance. He can not stand to be any farther away when he can be _right there_ instead. That's where he aches to be, right next to Clarke. After being away from her so long, he can't take anymore distance. Even a few inches of space is too much.

"Hey, thanks for saving my ass," Bellamy says, the smallest amount of teasing lightening his tone.

Clarke scoffs quietly. "Yeah, it was my pleasure. Although it'd be nice if, next time, you could at least _try_ to fight back."

Clarke keeps her focus on the bandages on the ground in front of her, because she knows if she looks at Bellamy that dumb smirk is going to be spread across his face and then she'll do something dumb, like try to kiss it off of him.

But his fingers are trailing through her hair, the back of them lightly brushing across her cheeks in the most gentle and questioning way possible, and all of her nerves feel like they are on fire. It's the first time in a long time Clarke really feels something.

Well, the first time in three months, two weeks, and four days, she feels something.

But, while something inside of her wants to lean into Bellamy's touch, something else makes her want to cringe away from it. Fear thrums through her veins, fear of what Bellamy signifies. The camp, everyone else, Mt. Weather- all those people, dead. Because of her actions.

Clarke finishes up with the bandages and turns to look at Bellamy, shifting away from him slightly at the same time. Bellamy drops his hand back onto the log and watches her intently. She cuts away the fabric nearest to the knife in his arm, not wanting it to catch on fire from the heat of the blade.

"Alright, are you ready to get this thing out of your arm?" Clarke asks, reaching to pull her knife carefully out of the fire.

Bellamy nods, straightening up, already bracing himself. His face is tight with anticipation and some empathy seeps into Clarke. She moves closer to him, pressing her knee against his, as if she can lend him her own strength.

Thunder claps loudly through the sky and Bellamy jumps. Clarke runs a reassuring hand over his knee and he takes a deep breath.

"So, you pull out the knife on the count of three and then I'm going to cauterize it," Clarke tells him.

Bellamy's lips press into a thin line and he dips his head in acknowledgement.  "On three."

"One... two," Clarke raises her knife and Bellamy's eyes flick to hers, filled with anxiety, "three."

Bellamy flings the knife out of his arm with a yell and Clarke presses the blade of her knife into the gushing wound. Bellamy's shouts fill her ears and she slides one of her hands onto the back of his neck. She pulls him forwards, pushing her forehead against his. He quiets down, panting heavily through gritted teeth with his eyes closed.

Clarke turns her head a bit so she can see the wound as she lifts the knife before pressing it back down again. Bellamy's hand finds her hip and his fingers dig into her side. Clarke has to bite her lip to keep from groaning at his rough touch. _No, I am definitely_ not _enjoying this_ , she tells herself.

Finally, the worst part is over, and Bellamy collapses onto Clarke, burying his face into the crook of her neck. She drops the knife onto the ground next to the log they're sitting on.

"I need to clean it now," Clarke says soothingly, playing with the hair at the back of his neck.

Bellamy doesn't reply, but slowly shrugs his jacket off, keeping his face pressed against her neck. Clarke pours some alcohol onto the wound in his arm, gasping quietly when his fingers find her side again. She cleans the wound and wraps it tightly with the gauze.

Once Clarke is finished, she pushes Bellamy off of her, so she can look him eyes. She stares at him for a second, searching to make sure he's okay. He offers her a weak smile and she returns it.

"Here," she says, handing him the bottle of alcohol. "You deserve it."

Bellamy takes a long swig from the bottle before placing it onto the ground.

Ages ago, when Bellamy had first realized his feelings for Clarke, he had decided to take things slow, to let her decide when things would go to the next level. He never wanted to rush her, or take things too fast. He didn't want to scare her off. She was supposed to make every move. But, goddamn, her fingers were still laced through his hair and her eyes were set on his and it had been three goddamn months, two goddamn weeks, and four goddamn days and it was taking every piece of willpower within him not to kiss her right then and there.

His arms lock around Clarke's waist, pulling her closer to him. Their foreheads clumsily smack together and their noses bump, but their eyes stay locked on one another's. "Well, Clarke Griffin, looks like you're my savior."

Clarke doesn't reply. It's taking every ounce of her concentration not to stretch up and close those few, torturous inches of space between his mouth and hers. She lets her arms snake around his neck, a thousand terrifying feelings shooting through her nerves.

"How can I ever repay you?" His voice is low, eyes on her lips.

Clarke isn't sure how it happens, but her lips are on his before she's aware she moved. They practically melt into each other. Bellamy pulls Clarke onto his lap, hands braced against her lower back. Clarke's resolve crumbles and she moans into Bellamy's mouth. Her fingers tug at Bellamy's hair hungrily, coaxing a groan out of him.

Thunder crashes above them, accompanied by the sound of rain hitting the leaves on the trees. It picks up quickly, splattering Bellamy and Clarke and dousing the fire Clarke started.

"Looks like we should move this party inside," Bellamy mumbles against Clarke's mouth, tongue flicking out to trace her bottom lip. Bellamy tightens his grip around her waist and starts to stand up.

Clarke shoves against him. "Bellamy, stop!" Bellamy instantly releases Clarke, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Clarke stands up, glaring down at him. "We just pulled a knife out of your arm! Don't make the wound open again."

Bellamy stands up, wrapping his arms around Clarke again. "Whatever you say, _doc_ ," he teases, wiping raindrops off of her cheek.

Clarke rolls her eyes. "C'mon," she says, disentangling their arms so she can take his hand. "Let's get out of the rain."

Bellamy let's Clarke pull him into her tent, more than willing to follow her anywhere she goes. Especially if that anywhere is the inside of Clarke's small tent, with just the two of them to keep each other occupied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo I know that's a bit of a... let down ? But, if you guys really want it, I can definitely have Bellamy repay Clarke in more than one way, more than one time, next chapter. Keep up the support, I hope you guys enjoyed this!


	3. A Prince Lives to Serve his Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy thanks Clarke for saving his life.... in more than one way and more than one time.

Once they get into the tent, Clarke pushes Bellamy down and climbs on top of him. Bellamy can't stop the smirk that spreads onto his face as her hands roam over his chest. 

"Maybe I should've gotten attacked by grounders three months ago," Bellamy jokes. 

Clarke narrows her eyes but a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "I didn't realize that after I left I'd have to babysit you," she replies. 

Thinking of Clarke's impeccable timing, a thought occurs to Bellamy. He sits up, adjusting Clarke on his lap so he can press their bodies together. "Were you following me, princess?" he whispers into her ear. 

A blush starts creeping onto Clarke's face, but she tries to brush it off. "It's not a very hard thing to do considering you were making so much noise anyone within a ten mile radius could've heard you."  She flips her hair nonchalantly. "But you're welcome."

Bellamy laughs a little and runs his lips across her jawline. "My hero."

"I guess you owe me," she says, dipping her hands under his shirt to run her fingernails lightly down his back. 

"I guess I do," Bellamy growls, fingers digging into her hips as pulls her even closer. 

Clarke puts a hand under his chin, dragging his mouth up to hers. Her hands roam over his chest underneath his shirt greedily, but the shirt restrains her exploration abilities. It needs to go. 

As if reading her thoughts, Bellamy pulls himself away from her, just far enough to lift his shirt over his head and throw it to the side. Clarke quickly follows his lead, tugging her own shirt off. 

They meet back in the middle, lips crashing together hungrily. Her breasts are pushed against his chest and his hands are firm against her back but all Bellamy can think is  _closer, closer, closer_. Clarke moans into his mouth, her tongue flicking across his teeth. 

Bellamy slowly sets Clarke down on her back, despite her groan when their lips pull apart. For a second, he just stares down at her, both of them breathing heavily. Clarke cautiously raises a hand to push some of Bellamy's hair out of the way and he leans into her touch, eyes closed. 

Clarke's chest feels like something heavy just dropped onto it. She had tried to convince her self that she was fine without Bellamy, that she didn't look for his dark hair and tall figure every time she went walking the woods near Camp Jaha, that she hadn't completely memorized his schedule so she could occasionally check in on him, that it wasn't the feel of his arms around her or his lips on hers that she aches for.

But she never quite did the job.

And now, with him here, in her tent, she feels full of three months and two weeks and four damn days of pent up emotions. 

And it is going to drive her fucking insane. 

Clarke's hand slides around the back of Bellamy's neck, pulling him down on top of her so their lips collide. Her teeth tug his bottom lip, sucking it into her own mouth. Bellamy drags his mouth down, lips running over her throat and teeth grazing her collarbone. His fingers unclasp her bra quickly, pulling it away from her body. As his mouth works across her breasts, Clarke hooks her legs on his hips and lifts her lower-half upwards to grind against him. Her hands find his belt and her fingers work towards undoing it. 

The belt jerks out of her grip as Bellamy quickly slides further down her body. "Ladies first," he says. His fingers fumble with the top of her pants, eyebrows raised questioningly up at her. Once she nods, he unbuttons her pants and tugs them down her legs as Clarke arches her back to make it easier for him. 

Bellamy's lips find Clarke's again as his hand rubs against her heat through her underwear. 

"Bellamy," she moans into his mouth, grinding down into his fingers. 

Bellamy smirks against her lips. "Relax, princess," he murmurs, fingers tugging her underwear down her legs. They trail tantalizingly across her inner thighs before teasing her entrance. 

His lips leave hers to travel down her chest and stomach to her groin. His tongue dips inside of her and Clarke arches her back in ecstasy. One of his hands grips her hip, holding her in place, while the other travels up to her breast. His fingers tease her nipple, tugging and pinching. His mouth works into her heat, guiding her to the edge. Clarke's fingers tangle in his hair, pulling as his tongue flicks into her over and over.

"Come on, princess," he rumbles into her. His hand slides down her hip so his thumb can press against her clit and Clarke lets go, unable to hold on anymore. 

As Clarke tries to catch her breath, her body entirely relaxed, Bellamy moves back up to her face. He kisses her gently, lips barely brushing over hers. Clarke moves quickly, undoing his belt and tearing it away from his pants. 

Bellamy chuckles lightly but stands so he can shuffle out of his pants before lying back down to meet Clarke. He grinds down into her, the friction of his underwear driving Clarke mad as she runs her nails down his back. 

Clarke's hands reach Bellamy's waist and she grabs onto the band of his underwear, dragging it down his thighs. With a moan, she arches her back and thrusts against his bulge. Bellamy groans at the contact. 

When Clarke lowers herself back down, Bellamy positions himself at her entrance. Her looks down at her for a second and she nods. 

Bellamy thrusts into Clarke with moan and her eyes flutter closed. His lips push roughly against hers as he starts up a rhythm.

"Clarke," he rasps, tongue brushing over hers. She groans in reply,  fingers digging into his back.

Clarke is the first to climax. "Bellamy," she moans into his mouth, losing control. 

He follows right after her, collapsing onto her. Their heavy pants fill the tent as his lips ghost over hers.

Bellamy rolls onto his back and pulls Clarke onto his chest, arms wrapping around her. Clarke sighs and snuggles into him as he presses a kiss onto the top of her head. Eventually, their breathing slows and they fall into a comfortable sleep, tangled around each other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, I hope everyone enjoyed that! I'm sorry it took a little while to post this- this was sort of the first in detail smut I've ever written so it took me a while to get everything worded correctly. I hope it was good, though. As always, thanks for the support and for reading, lovelies!


	4. You Are the Drought and I Am the Holy Water You Have Been Without

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke, fluff smut fluff. A nice little lazy chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the title is weird. I listened to Fall Out Boy the entire time I wrote this chapter so I figured I'd use a lyric for the title (it's from Fourth of July if you're interested). Enjoy!

When Clarke wakes up the next morning, she's alone. 

Disappointment seeps into Clarke. She had been looking forward to seeing Bellamy when she awoke- his hair mussed and him blinking sleep from his eyes as he smiles groggily at her, but he's nowhere to be seen.

Sighing, Clarke stretches. She feels her muscles pull deliciously, trembling slightly. She feels so light. It has been a long time since Clarke has gotten to sleep that well, undisturbed by nightmares. Her arm hits something and she hears paper crinkle. She rolls, hands running over her bed before finding a torn off corner of a page. 

She holds it up in the sunlight, reading the words scrawled onto it. 

_Clarke,_

_had to get back to camp before Octavia sent a search party out looking for me_

_Dinner is on me tonight_

_See you soon,_

_Bellamy_

A smile spreads onto Clarke's face and she bites her bottom lip. A thrill runs up her spine at the thought of seeing Bellamy again. 

Clarke dresses quickly and slides out of her tent. She looks up at the sun, finding it's position halfway through the sky. With her free time before Bellamy comes back, she decides to go find a good pool to bathe in. Humming lightly, she sets off. 

                                    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Bellamy! Where have you been?" 

A small figure attacks Bellamy as soon as he walks through the gate into Camp Jaha. Octavia wraps her arms around Bellamy for a quick second before pulling back and punching him, hard, in his arm. 

"Fuck, O! I'm injured!" Bellamy shouts, grabbing his arm where she had punched him, directly where he had been stabbed. 

"Injured?" Octavia repeats, voice full of concern. "What happened? We need to get you to medical."

"O, slow down," Bellamy says, tugging his arm out of her grip as she tries to drag him to medical. "I'm fine. Some grounders attacked me and I was stabbed, but I'm alright."

"I still want someone to look at that," Octavia urges. "What do you know about patching yourself up?"

Bellamy presses his lips together and surrenders, letting Octavia lead the way. He knows Clarke knew what she was doing, but he doesn't want to reveal to Octavia that he found her. He wants to keep Clarke to himself, at least for a little while. 

It has been three months, two weeks, and four days since Abby Griffin has been avoiding Bellamy all she possibly can. Obviously she has had to acknowledge him sometimes, like at meetings with the camp leaders, mostly to disagree with anything he brings up.  She hardly even makes eye contact with him- she can't. She had finally gotten her daughter back, and Bellamy had let her slip away again, into the woods. 

For all she knows, Clarke is dead. 

The worst part, though, is that Abby can tell Bellamy is hurting, too. It infuriates her. He hardly knows her daughter yet he gives her knowing looks anytime something in a meeting comes up that they just  _know_ Clarke would've had something to say about. Clarke's absence is tangible to them, and she hates sharing that with him, a stranger. 

So, when Abby finds Bellamy sitting on her checkup bed that day, she doesn't ask him any questions. She moves straight to his arm as his sister rattles on, half to Bellamy and half to her, about how he  _stupidly ventured out, by himself!_ with Bellamy grimacing slightly at Octavia's tirade, and glancing at Abby anxiously.  _  
_

"Is something wrong?" Bellamy asks when Abby fumbles over the knot on the bandages. 

Abby resists glaring at him. "The knot is just giving me some trouble," she says. It is an irritatingly good knot. It reminds Abby of the knot Clarke used to tie her shoes in. They were impossible to get out. 

Actually, it looks exactly like Clarke's knot. 

Abby stands quickly and grabs a pair of scissors. She cuts through the bandages, letting them fall on the floor. She examines the wound carefully, but there's no need. It's been patched, while slightly crudely since he didn't have any actual medical tools, extremely well. 

"Wow," Abby bites. "Maybe you should look into getting a medical job." Suspicion laces her voice. 

"Oh, no," Bellamy says quickly. "This is just... Clarke taught me. Did I do it correctly?" 

Hearing him using Clarke's name causes a beat of anger to shoot through Abby. "Yes, you'll be fine. Although you should come back if it starts oozing, the skin around it gets red, or the veins around the wound become clearly visible. Other than that, come back in a week for a checkup." With that, Abby disappears out of the room.

Even after being given the all clear, Octavia doesn't let Bellamy out of her sight. She interrogates him all afternoon, wanting to know what kept him away from camp. 

After a lengthy lecture on how he should always take a walkie with him anytime he leaves camp (which, alright he should have, but he didn't know that he was going to end up spending the night with Clarke) and radio in if there is any sort of delay, Bellamy finally manages to grab some food and slip away (double checking to bring his walkie this time). The sun is already setting by the time he finally starts his trek through the woods. 

                                        ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clarke sighs, pacing around the fire pit. Her eyes flick to the sun, which is disappearing rapidly. 

 _He probably just got held up with something at camp_ , she tries to assure herself. 

Clarke kicks at the dirt and stares down, feeling pretty useless. She goes into her tent and emerges with her sketchbook and a pencil. She awkwardly tucks it into her shirt and climbs up a tree so she can get a better view of the sky. Sketching always helps takes her mind off of things, giving her something to concentrate on. 

She starts laying out the rough outline of the setting sun, trying to capture the image as it quickly recedes before her. She doesn't make much progress, however, her thoughts keep flitting to Bellamy. To his face, with his soft lips, and his strong arms and his hands... oh  _his hands_. A small moan escapes Clarke's lips as she remembers his hands all over her last night and she smacks a hand to her mouth, a blush heating her cheeks. 

Clarke shakes her head, trying to clear it, and forces her full attention onto her sketch. 

By the time Bellamy stumbles into the campsite, the sun is completely gone. He curses himself for not bringing a flashlight or something and he had almost given up trying to find it altogether, but then he sees the low light of a fire. He picks up his pace and soon sees Clarke's tent, too. 

"Clarke!" he calls, stepping over a log and into the firelight. 

"I'm up here!" 

Bellamy tilts his head up, following the sound of her voice, and finds Clarke perched in a tree above him. She smiles down at him. 

"Catch."

Her sketchbook falls out of her hands and Bellamy quickly jerks to catch it. Clarke makes her way down the tree a little bit before dropping down herself. 

"Thanks," she says, stretching up to peck him on the lips before taking the sketchbook from him. 

Clarke turns away, setting her sketchbook onto a log. "It took you long enough," she says jokingly, but her shoulders are tense. 

Bellamy slides his hands onto her shoulder, squeezing her lightly. "Sorry, Octavia gave me a hard time for not checking in with her last night," he explains. 

"It's fine," Clarke quickly says, turning around to wrap her arms around his waist. She sighs into him, relaxing as he pulls her closer. 

Bellamy presses a kiss onto the top of her head. "How are you?" he asks against her hair. 

"Amazing." Clarke grins, nuzzling into his chest. Her stomach growls loudly and Bellamy sees the blush creep onto the back of her neck as she smiles at him sheepishly. "And I'm starving," she adds. 

"Well," Bellamy says, grabbing the bag off of his back and lightly setting it on the ground to unzip it, "dinner is served." 

Clarke watches him as he unpacks the food, a warm feeling spreading through her stomach. But behind that, a small bead of terror lays heavily in her. She tries to shake the feeling away and wash herself in Bellamy's company. She's been alone for long enough. 

Clarke sits down next to Bellamy and they eat in relative silence, one of Bellamy's arms wrapped around Clarke and her head on his shoulder. 

When they finish eating, Clarke leads Bellamy into her tent. They move slowly this time, mouths pressing together in long, tortuous kisses and hands lazily exploring each others' bodies. 

They clumsily fall on top of each other, mouths locked together as they slip out of their clothes, pulling apart for a few seconds to tug shirts away before falling back together with contented sighs, pulling each other's underwear off.

"Bellamy," Clarke pants, rocking her hips against his. Bellamy slides into her agonizingly slow, drawing a long moan out of her, which he captures with his mouth. 

Clarke feels like she's going crazy. His lazy rhythm leaves her aching for more.

When she climaxes, a gasp leaves her lips, sounding desperately close to Bellamy's name and he can't hold it in anymore either, groaning as he lets go.

Bellamy lays down next to Clarke and her hand finds his in between them, fingers twining tightly with his.  She smiles shyly at him in such a fragile way that Bellamy feels something inside of himself tear. He leans in carefully, pressing his lips to hers for just a second before letting his head fall back down. Clarke sighs and stares at the ceiling.

Bellamy can't look away from her.  _How did I ever get lucky enough to deserve this?_ he wonders. _  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this might have been sort of boring for some people but I was just in that lazy chapter sort of mood. Plus, this is just the calm before the storm (?) I guess. The story shall start picking up soon, I promise! I hope everyone enjoyed, please continue to show your support I love hearing from you! Have a good day/night, lovelies!


	5. The Sweetness Never Lasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke was finally, happy. Blissful. Loved. Bellamy had consumed her world in a slow, warm fire of care and tenderness, patching up parts of her she had thought were gone forever.  
> She should have known it was too good to last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'm very sorry I went a while without posting! Family emergency.  
> But, here it is!!! I hope you enjoy it (well, alright, you probably won't enjoy it...)

Clarke sighs as she looks at the fire pit. It is going to be hard to have to pick up and leave again, especially when she was truly happy here, with Bellamy.

The thought of Bellamy jerks her out of her nostalgic thoughts and she turns away quickly, walking away from her little camp forever. 

Tears spring to her eyes and she wipes at them angrily. Desperation bites at her, hopelessness drowning her thoughts.  _Where do I go from here?_ she thinks. 

And, no matter how hard she tries, her thoughts just keep drifting back to him. 

Back to Bellamy. 

The tears come faster now and she gives in, stopping to lean against a tree as a sob works through her. 

She really didn't want to be alone anymore, yet, here she was, walking off into the woods again.  _Alone_. 

 _Well, not completely alone_ , she thinks. Terror and excitement shoot through her as her hand trails down her abdomen. She tries to shake them off. 

Clarke looks up at the sky where the sun is starting to hang low. Bellamy will be making his way towards her camp soon. She wonders what he'll think when she isn't there. 

Clarke's lips pull into a sad smile as she thinks of him this morning. She had groggily woken up to him getting dressed. He had stopped immediately, leaning down to push his lips against hers and whisper, "Good morning, princess."

Her heart aches. 

But, now, Clarke can't stop the memories and they spill into her thoughts, one after another, tearing into her heart. 

She had finally been happy. He made her feel whole and warm and  _okay_. She had spent three months, two weeks, and four days trying her damn hardest to even feel the slightest bit of okay and he had just stumbled back into her life with a knife lodged in his arm and washed away the entire burden her shoulders had sagged with that entire time he was missing from her life. 

They had fallen into an easy routine. Bellamy would slip out of Clarke's tent in the early morning and hurry back to camp so he would arrive before, hopefully, no one had noticed his absence. 

After taking care of any problems at camp, he would sneak out in the light of the setting sun and make his way to Clarke's campsite, where she would always be waiting for him. 

Until tonight. 

When Bellamy makes it to Clarke's campsite, he's not greeted with the usual glow of the fire. It's completely dead and the embers feel cool to his touch. 

He moves along, walking towards Clarke's tent. He tries to push the worry out of his mind, until he sees that the tent is gone.

"Clarke?" he says. He clears his throat. "Clarke!" he shouts, a bit louder. 

There's no answer. Panic is pumping through Bellamy. _Was she attacked? Did grounders take her?_

But, when his eyes drift back to the empty patch where he tent should be, he knows the truth. 

 _She's gone_. 

 _She_ left _._  

Bellamy sets off, running out of the campsite. "Clarke!" he calls, wincing at his yell echoing through the woods. If any grounders are near by, he's dead. He continues on quietly after that, making his way through the woods as quickly as he can. 

Something in him knows it's no use, he has no idea where she went and it's pitch black, but he can't stop running. He loops back around a few times, trying to go in a different direction to see if he can see any signs of her. 

Eventually the sun starts to peek up on the horizon, he has been running all night. Exhaustion heavy on his body, he decides to make his way back to the camp, giving up for now. 

Bellamy paces back to the fire pit and sits down on a log. He stares down at the embers as his emotions switch from one extreme to the next. Anger, confusion, disappointment, sadness. 

He  _just_ got her back. 

And now she's gone. 

Bellamy runs through his memory of her this morning and last night. Everything had been perfect.

She had been acting weird for almost a week now, distant and sort of cold. But all had been erased last night. It was amazing. She seemed to be back to normal, kissing him sweetly at first and then intensely. Bellamy had felt like he was going to burn from how her lips had crashed against his, desire pouring out of her. 

Maybe he should have known it was too good to be true. 

Bellamy lays back on the log, tearing his eyes away from the empty space where her tent had been. He looks up at the sky, feeling somehow empty and full at the same time. 

 _She's gone_.

Clarke is making pitiful progress. In between throwing up, crying, and just generally having no motivation to continue putting distance between her and her home, between her and Bellamy, she is left stumbling through the woods in a teary, stressed out mess. 

She had tried to hold this off for as long as possible. 

Even when her period was a week late, then two, then three. It was when the morning sickness became an actual problem that she knew she could not ignore this problem anymore. 

Clarke is pregnant. 

She is pregnant and alone and walking through the middle of grounder-infested woods, walking away from the only positive source in her world. Well, walking away from her entire world, from Bellamy. 

She didn't think it would be this hard.

She had distanced herself as much as she could for the last week. Barely talking, barely registering anything Bellamy would say. She hadn't been able to hold it up the last night, though. She had to enjoy that last precious night. 

But she can't be with Bellamy anymore, not when she's pregnant. 

She knows Bellamy. The minute he would realize she's pregnant, and he would have noticed soon, he would have packed her up and marched her right back to Camp Jaha. He had already been nudging her to come back with him, mentioning how much Raven and Octavia missed her, falling silent when Clarke would fix him with a pleading look. 

But there is no way Bellamy would let her slip away when she is pregnant with his child, or let her continue living in the woods alone, where he can't be with her at all times. 

Clarke isn't ready to go back to Camp Jaha. She can't. Especially not when she's pregnant. She wouldn't be able to handle everyone obsessing over her and worrying over her. 

She's a murderer. She doesn't even deserve to have her own child. She is a destroyer, not a creator. 

But she no longer has a choice. 

Clarke pulls her last bit of resolve to push her shoulders upwards. The sun is starting to push over the horizon and she steers herself towards it, gazing up at the sunrise as she moves forwards.

She puts a hand on her abdomen and lets a small bit of hope wash through her. She may be alone now, but she won't for long. This baby can be a new start for her. As terrifying as raising a baby on her own seems, she will not let her child down, not like she let everyone down at camp. Never again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, lovelies. I think this fic may be coming to a close soon !! How exciting. Keep showing your support if you could, lovelies! Check in again soon.


	6. Former Heroes Who Quit Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke deals with her pregnancy and her lasting nightmares of Mount Weather while Bellamy is forced to make a difficult decision about moving on.

_Why?_

Nowadays, Bellamy’s head is always filled with thoughts of Clarke. But there is one that prevails above all of the others.

_Why?_

_Why did she leave?_

_Why didn’t he get to her camp earlier?_

_Why didn’t he look harder that night?_

_Why?_

Bellamy groans, rubbing a hand over his face. This is driving him insane. If he could just talk to her, one more time…

But he can’t, because she left.

Clarke left.

Again.

Maybe he should just move on. He can’t deal with this anymore, this constant obsession. He wishes he could think of anything but her, anything other than her light blond hair and her soft lips and the way they prick upwards when he calls her ‘princess’ and her body pressed against his and her mouth trailing down his neck and when they would pull back for a second and just stare at each other and Bellamy would feel his heart swell staring into her eyes, because no one had ever looked at him like that before, with such tenderness and desire and love.

But now she’s gone.

                        ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 _What am I supposed to do now?_ Clarke thinks, looking at the tear in her tent from a branch falling on it.

Everyday is a struggle for Clarke. Finding adequate food, searching for the herbs that will help her through the pregnancy, restraining herself from checking on Camp Jaha, restraining herself from thinking of Bellamy, from thinking of how much easier it would be if she just went back, how amazing of a father Bellamy would be, how nice it would be to relax and not constantly be aware of her surroundings, to have someone else take care of her....

Clarke shakes her head. It’s no use to think about what could be, she needs to accept reality. She grabs her needle and thread and sets to work on the tent.

Yes, life at Camp Jaha would be much simpler and much safer than the life she’s creating here, but she’s just… not ready. Not ready to face the true reality of everything that happened.

So she ran.

Just like before, she left. She can't take being around the others anymore. Everywhere she goes, she brings death and destruction. She can't take anymore blood on her hands, whether it's blood of an enemy or blood of a loved one. She bears the burden so they don't have to, but she just can't take anymore of it. 

As always, Clarke’s thoughts drift back to Bellamy. She wonders if he has given up searching for her. She wonders if he will ever forgive her for leaving again. She wonders if he even wonders about her.

Not paying attention, Clarke pulls the needle and it digs through her index finger.

“Ow, shit,” she mutters, sucking at the wound and flicking her tongue over it to check the damage.

It’s a small thing, but Clarke still feels tears pricking into her eyes. She wipes at them dejectedly with her free hand.

_If Bellamy were here…_

And that sets Clarke off. A sob shakes through her tired, aching body. If Bellamy were here, none of this would be happening right now. She wouldn’t be so exhausted all the time from nightmares of people whose lives she ended taunting her, she would be able to rest her feet so they wouldn’t be so swollen, and, _holy shit_ , he would probably even massage them.

Clarke pictures Bellamy’s fingers wrapping around her feet, thumbs digging into her heel while he presses kisses onto the tips of her toes, maybe biting down on one…

Clarke moans quietly and then laughter escapes her for a moment, before trailing back into crying. Anger bites through her, she is just so sick and tired of being so damn emotional. Shouldn’t it have gotten easier by now? It’s been almost a month, she should have moved on by now, she should have become used to her situation.

She closes her eyes for a second and the faces of the children of Mount Weather flash against her eyelids. They're dead because of her, and now she's going to have a child of her own.

Clarke looks down at her stomach, pressing her hands against it as fear tingles in her nerves, because she knows that the reality is, it’s only going to get harder.

                                  ---------------------------------------------------------------------

“Bellamy!”

Bellamy freezes in the gate and turns slowly to face Octavia. Her eyes are set in narrow slits.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she nearly spits at him.

“Out,” Bellamy says tiredly, “patrolling, checking the forest.”

“You’ve been _out patrolling_ ,” she says mockingly, “everyday for weeks now!”

Bellamy doesn’t say anything, too worn to participate in this fight.

“Did you know that, in order to actually lead this camp, you have to occasionally be _in_ this camp?” Octavia crosses her arms, proud to have made her point.

Bellamy glances around. Raven has just ducked into a tent with Wick, and Monty and Jasper are slouching as nonchalantly as they possibly can about twenty feet away. Abby Griffin is standing in the doorway of the ark, staring him down from across the camp.

Bellamy thinks of Clarke and a small flare of anger shoots through him, because, really, this is _her_ fault. If she had just stayed, he wouldn’t have to be searching for her, he wouldn’t spend every night agonizing over whether she’s okay or not, or if she’s even alive.  

Bellamy steps closer to Octavia so he can lower his voice. “Did you know that, in order to _have_ a camp, I have to occasionally protect it?” he bites back.

Octavia isn’t phased and her volume only rises as she says, “Yes, Bellamy, that’s why we have guards, whose job is to protect the camp and go on patrols. You, however, are a leader, so your job is to lead, which you can’t do if you’re practically living in the woods alone!”

Bellamy feels the fight leak out of him, he’s just so damn tired. “O, please,” he says, “can we not do this?”

Octavia shakes her head, but her voice lowers a little bit. “When do you want to do this Bellamy? When the camp gets attacked while you’re out ‘protecting us’? When you eventually just stop coming back to camp? When you get yourself attacked while you’re out there alone?”

Bellamy can see the pleading in her eyes and he has to look away, staring down at the ground.

“Bell, what’s wrong?”

Now it’s Bellamy’s turn to plead with her. He stares at her as he tries to make a decision. Clarke and Octavia hadn’t left off on the best of terms, but maybe she has forgiven her by now.

It takes Bellamy too long to decide, however, and Octavia gives up. She steps away from him.

“Go,” she says, not meeting his eyes. She gestures past him, towards the woods.

Bellamy feels his heart drop, torn in two directions. “I’m going to come back,” he tells her.

Octavia’s eyes flick up to his for a moment as she shakes her head. “ _If_ you come back, you better be ready to lead this camp again, this can’t continue happening.”

Bellamy nods and turns away. As he makes his way towards the woods, he feels the eyes of everyone in the camp on his back.

This is the last time he can do this, he knows that. After this trip, he has to give up. He has to move on and stop looking for her. This trip is to say goodbye.

This is the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS NOT THE END!!!   
> I know Bellamy thinks that, but this is for sure not the last chapter. I just wanted to clarify that- there will be AT LEAST one more chapter to this little story.   
> Thanks for sticking with me lovelies, the end is soon to come.


	7. Will Your Mouth Still Remember the Taste of My Love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke is going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii I'm super sorry this is so late but here you go it's pretty long and I didn't check it at all so I'm SUPER sorry for spelling errors but please enjoy the final chapter *hides*

Clarke is going to go home.

For the baby.

She can’t do this alone, she knows. This baby deserves better than a tent in the middle of grounder-infested woods. Camp Jaha might not want her back, but maybe they will at least shelter her until she has her baby, and then Bellamy can take it if they don’t want her, and she will disappear back into the woods.

Even if they turn her down, Bellamy has to help, right? For the sake of the baby?

Clarke sighs, stopping to lean against a tree. She’s making straggling progress towards her old camp, dragged down by this incessant argument going back and forth within her own mind.

She has done nothing for Bellamy to deserve his kindness; she has left him twice now. And she left Camp Jaha, leaving them without her leadership for over half a year now. How many people even remember her? Who of them would be willing to help her? To share what little they have, to a dumb teenager who ran away and then managed to get pregnant, and is now coming back to let them take care of her?

Tears bite angrily at the corners of Clarke’s eyes. Yes, she is a dumb teenager that ran away and is now crawling back. Clarke is sacrificing all of her pride and dignity, but she has to. For the baby.

For her baby.

It’s the only thing that keeps her going, even when she feels as though she’s drowning in doubts, and when she knows there are a thousand ways this could go wrong, she continues making her way back towards home.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Why did Bellamy do anything these days?

For Clarke.

Not for his camp, not for his sister, not for himself.

He is letting everyone down. Bellamy thinks back to Octavia yelling at him in front of the gate, telling him to choose, and him walking away into the woods.

Bellamy cringes.

Nothing he ever does is right; he can’t think, he can’t eat, he can’t sleep, he can’t function.

Not without her.

It had been hard before, too, after she left the first time. It had taken him weeks to believe in his leadership skills enough to make decisions on his own, without her guidance. It had taken months for him to learn how to balance himself out, how to ask what would Clarke do? and find a medium between what he wanted and what she would want, just like they used to.

But now?

He is useless. How does he even know what she wants? He thought she wanted him.

And he had been wrong.

Why is he even here?

Why is he here, in her camp, waiting for her when she left over a month ago?

Bellamy stands up. Maybe he should just leave. Does he really think this one more night is going to do anything? Like she’s going to magically change her mind and come marching back to him?

Does he even want her to come back?

Bellamy shakes his head at the thought. Of course he wants her to come back, he just…

Can he handle this anymore?

He can’t. Not if she’s going to come back in just to leave again. He can’t take that anymore. It would drive him off the edge, he’s already so close to it.

Bellamy groans quietly. If Clarke were just here, if he could just figure this out, if she hadn’t run away…

Bellamy sits back down on a log. One more night. That’s all he has.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Smoke. Clarke stops and tilts her head upwards, but she’s not mistaken. Smoke rises lazily above the trees, drifting up towards the clouds.

And Clarke’s headed in the same direction.

A small stroke of hope runs through Clarke. _Bellamy. At her camp._ Clarke shakes her head; that fire could be from anyone. But her pace quickens no less.

She makes good progress over the next two hours, even with the dipping sun. The smell of smoke wafts into her nose, faint but growing stronger.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bellamy wakes up to a blade on his throat. He keeps his eyes closed for a moment, assessing his situation. He doesn’t think the handler of the weapon knows he is awake yet.

Smoke burns his nostrils. _Shit_ , he thinks, _the fire._

He had meant to stay awake and keep it low, but he must’ve of fallen asleep. He’s sure the wood burned nicely, creating plenty of smoke for grounders everywhere to see.

He hears someone speaking in a low voice with words he doesn’t recognize and another one responds.

Bellamy lets his eyes slide open as little as possible, trying to discreetly look around. There are two of them, two women grounders standing on either side of him.

They’re going to kill him.

Bellamy grabs onto the wrist of the woman holding the sword to his throat. He rolls towards her, off of the log, shoving her over. He wrestles her for a hold on the sword but she’s strong. She manages to wriggle out from under him, kicking sharply into his ribs so give herself leverage. His breath leaves him, but he holds onto her for dear life.

Something solid whacks into the back of his head and he finally let’s go, hand cradling the back of his head as he collapses onto the ground, trying to blink away the pain. A hand grabs onto his hair, pulling him upwards before slamming his face into the ground.

Pain explodes through Bellamy’s face but he forces himself to move. He rolls away from a kick, grabbing onto the foot of the kicker at the same time and pulling her with him. She crashes onto the ground beside him and he punches her in the face. The other woman steps on his arm, trapping him as the woman he pulled down gets back up. They tower over him, baring their teeth at him as they raise their swords.

Bellamy has nothing on him. He left his gun by the log; he had taken it off earlier. He glances between the legs of the grounders, maybe he can get past them to it. But it’s gone. One of the grounders must have picked it up.

He can only hope his death comes quickly. That the grounders show him mercy and kill him off fast.

A gunshot cracks through the air.

Bellamy flinches, thinking he must’ve been shot with his own gun, but there are no new wounds on his body. The two grounders are no longer looking at him, but looking up, past where he is. He follows their gaze, craning his neck to see.

_Clarke._

“ _Bellamy_.” Hearing her say his name like that, tight with worry but filled with relief and dropping out of her mouth in a desperate gasp, sends a thousand emotions rippling through his body. Her eyes lock onto his so fiercely that he has to look away.

He catches one of the grounder women moving to grab him just in time, and he kicks out at her before scrambling to his feet. He grabs onto her outstretched arm and twists it behind her back, roughly pulling her towards him. The other grounder lunges at him, but stops when Clarke fires another shot. Bellamy twists the grounder’s arm hard enough to make her cry out.

“Run,” he tells her before shoving her away from him, onto the other woman. They both bare their teeth at him and Clarke once more before sprinting back into the trees, disappearing behind the trunks.

Bellamy can hear Clarke breathing, but he can’t bring himself to look at her.

What if she’s actually gone?

What if she’s actually there?

Bellamy can’t decide what he’s feeling or get his thoughts in order. All he really feels is tired and hurt, physically and emotionally. So, he finally turns.

She’s already staring at him and he has to keep himself from looking away.

Clarke takes a deep breath, trying for a smile. “I leave you alone for five minutes, Blake…”

Bellamy almost flinches at her words, being thrown back to before she left the second time. He looks away, marching over to the fire. He pours the bucket of water that he was supposed to use to help keep it down onto it. It doesn’t go out all the way, but it fizzles down a lot, plunging them into an almost solid darkness.

“Bellamy?” Her voice sounds fragile, calling out to him carefully, like he’s going to be startled away.

His grip tightens on the bucket for a second before he drops it, still unable to say anything.

Bellamy hears retching and turns around to find Clarke hunched over, leaning against a tree. Vomit splatters onto the ground and Bellamy grimaces, making his way quickly over to Clarke, all emotions other than worry taking a backseat for now.

He brushes her hair away from her face and waits until she finally straightens up. Then, he moves closer, checking her eyes and pressing his hand against her forehead to see if she’s warm.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Did you eat something? Are you sick?”

Clarke pulls away from him, shrinking into the tree. She takes a long sip of water, swishing it in her mouth before spitting it out, taking her time. She repeats this twice before finally saying, “Bellamy, I…” She buries her face in her hands. “No, I’m not sick.”

“Then why did you throw up?” he demands.

“Morning sickness.”

Bellamy’s brain refuses to register Clarke’s words and he spits out the simplest response he can think of. “It’s not morning.”

Clarke’s eyes find his to glare and Bellamy finds himself annoyed that she’s angry. He’s not the one who ran off into the woods- twice!

“Bellamy, we all took pregnancy classes on the Ark, you and I both know that morning sickness does not just occur in the morning,” she sneers.

“ _Pregnancy_!” Bellamy’s voice jumps a few octaves… he hadn’t even considered-

“Yes, I’m pregnant, and it- the baby is… it’s yours,” Clarke stutters out.

All of Bellamy’s thoughts seem to reduce to exclamation points shooting through his mind, sharp points crashing into his temples. His nerves are on fire.

“How long have you known?” he asks.

“For over a month,” she whispers, not meeting his gaze.

A month. The timeline falls into place in Bellamy’s head and anger stirs in his veins, tightening in his chest.

“So, you found out you were pregnant, and then you _left_?” he spits. “You went traipsing off into the woods with _our_ child without even thinking about telling me?”

All of Clarke’s focus had been concentrated on not throwing up again, but hearing Bellamy say ‘ _our child_ ’ sends a million goosebumps running up her arms and electricity fills her tired body. She pushes off of the tree, melting into Bellamy, tears already leaking out of her eyes. Bellamy is stiff against her, but she’s too worn out to care.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That was the stupidest thing I have ever done and I don’t expect you to forgive me for a million years but please, please help me, for the sake of the baby- of _our_ baby.” She can’t help a small smile at her words, even though her gut is filled with dread.

Her voice gets very quiet and Bellamy has to lean down to catch her whispering, “I want to have this baby with you.”

All of Bellamy’s anger pours out of him and he wraps his arms around her. Clarke starts crying again.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats into his chest, tears splashing onto his shirt. “I know I shouldn’t have left but I was just so _scared_ , I couldn’t go back to camp, I couldn’t face them, especially since I was pregnant, but I will now. I’ll go back if it means I can be with you and that our baby can have a safe home to be born and raised and please, Bellamy, I’m so sorry.”

Bellamy takes her face in his hands, thumbs brushing her tears away. “Clarke,” he whispers, voice raw with emotion.

She stares up at him, eyes full of tears and fear and hope, so full of hope that he almost breaks under the pressure of it.

“I need you to promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” she instantly replies, and he knows she means it.

“You’re never going to leave me again. Promise.”

“I promise,” she says. “Never, never, never. I will never leave you, Bellamy. Not for as long as I live, I never want to be away from you again.”

“Then you’re forgiven.”

Clarke wraps her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into her embrace. He feels her stomach against him and excitement bubbles through him. He tightens his grips around her, picking her up.

“We’re having a baby!” he yells as her laughter fills the air. “We’re going to be parents!”

When he sets her down, Clarke kisses every part of his face; pecking him on the forehead, the cheeks, the nose, until he’s laughing and moving his lips to meet hers, bringing their mouths together. It’s hardly a kiss, since both of their mouths are stretched into grins, but fireworks go off in Bellamy’s chest anyway.

“I love you.” It comes out in a sigh from Clarke, her shoulders relaxing like weight is tumbling off of them as she exhales the words into Bellamy’s mouth. Once they're out, she can’t stop herself. “I love you and I love you and I love you. I love you today and tomorrow and when I have this baby and when you’re the best father any child could ask for and when it grows up and starts living its own life and through all the bad days and all the good, I love you.” Everything comes out in a rush, all of her thoughts mixing together into a jumbled mess of words but each one hits Bellamy like a firework and his chest swells.

“I love you, too,” he tells her, and that’s all he can say before her lips are crushed against his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, folks. I really do hope you enjoyed the end. Maybe sometime this summer I'll post a little follow up chapter with the baby but that's the end for now!!! Bye, lovelies, stay tuned for more from me this summer!


End file.
